


Hell's Broke Loose In Georgia

by shades_of_odd



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (quickly and painfully that is), Alternate Universe, Based on a shitty-check-please-aus post, Gen, The Devil Went Down To Georgia, because why the fuck not, no beta we die like people who refuse to ask for help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shades_of_odd/pseuds/shades_of_odd
Summary: A super short, kinda shitty Check, Please! AU based on the song "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" by the Charlie Daniels Band.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Hell's Broke Loose In Georgia

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this within a span of four hours, and I was on Buzzfeed for most of that. This is the first Check, Please! fic I've finished, ever, and while it's not the best written and I'm pretty sure Bitty is WAY out of character, I thought it was fun! I hope you like it. Hit me up if I made any grammatical mistakes. :)

Bitty was home for the summer. He’d finished his freshman year at Samwell two weeks ago, and he already missed his team like hell. There was a group chat, of course, and he did talk to them, but it just wasn’t the same. So, in order to help himself feel better, he was baking a pie while his parents went out to lunch with some of their friends. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence in and of itself, but what made it odd was the man staring at him through the kitchen window from across the street. He looked a few inches taller than Bitty, with pale skin, auburn hair, and very dark eyes. 

After a few minutes, he nodded silently, looked inside a backpack he had slung over his shoulder, and crossed the street. When he knocked on the front door, Bitty answered with a rolling pin in his hand. He didn’t think the young man was looking for trouble, but caution is a good thing to have, especially since he’d been staring Bitty down. 

“Hello! Can I help you?” The man smiled in response, but something about it was wrong. Maybe he had too many teeth, maybe they were too sharp, maybe his lips stretched back too far, but _something_ wasn’t right. _He isn’t from anywhere on God’s green earth_ , Bitty thought. 

“I admire your skill with a rolling pin,” he nodded to Bitty’s hand, white knuckles clutching the pin’s handle for dear life, “I’m a baker myself, and I’d like to make a bet with you. If you can bake a better pie than I can, I’ll give you a pie tin made of solid gold.” He reached to his side and patted his backpack.” “If you can’t, I’ll take your soul.” His grin widened, somehow. 

“You’re the Devil.”

The man ( _not a man at all, really_ ) nodded once, gently. 

Moomaw would kill him if she ever found out about this, but Bitty figured this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He could say no, (he should say no; the rational part of his brain screamed at him to say no) but he’d never met anyone who could match his baking skill, and he wanted to know just how good he was. In the end, it wasn’t a hard decision. “I’ll take your bet. You’re going to regret this, Devil. No one can outbake me.” 

“Then let the festivities begin!” The Devil spread his arms in a grandiose gesture, then stepped into the house. 

Bitty closed the door behind him. He may not believe in God, but he sent up a silent plea to whatever dieties were listening anyway. 

* * *

The Devil made an apple pie. 

It was practically perfect. The crust was golden-brown and flaky, the apples were perfectly cooked, the spices danced on Bitty’s tongue and made him feel warm inside, and the slices held their shape perfectly when cut. 

Bitty finished his slice. The Devil ate half of his, then spoke. “Well? Do I win or not?”

“It was amazing. You’re a damn good baker, I have to say. But -” the kitchen timer went off. Bitty rose from the table. “You haven’t won anything today.”

Bitty checked his blueberry pie, making sure it was sufficiently cooled, then served the Devil a piece. The Devil took a bite of his slice and set down his fork, staring blankly at the plate. After a moment, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a pie tin that looked like it was made of solid gold and set it on the kitchen table. 

Bitty had won the bet. 

“Come back if you ever want to try again. I already told you that no one can outbake me.” 

The Devil got up silently, seeming a little shell-shocked from having lost the bet. He walked out of the house and down the street, leaving Bitty with a golden pie tin and one hell of a story.


End file.
